I ordered the shutters open and we witnessed the fall of Rykad Minoris. Perhaps mass murder would have been wiser; perhaps the Inquisitor's acolyte was right, and I was unwittingly sowing the seeds of a deadly Chaos cult through the Koronus expanse. If I was wrong, it was my duty to open my eyes to it. The last of Argenta's shuttles was a silver star in the darkness as it hurried home like a Terran messenger bird. At the end of the day, the Sister's miracle had failed. Not everyone sane could be evacuated from Rykad Minoris; terrible choices had to be made. She did her very best, going above and beyond simple duty, and only a direct order brought her back in time — but we still had some room in the lower decks; we could have taken more. Magos Pasqal, on the other hand, was successful. I shall give the reactor to the Adeptus Mechanicus, as I have no use for it.

Behind the bright shuttle, the perfect circle that had been Rykad Minoris was losing the last of its atmosphere. It was alight with the fires of the Empyrean. Its changing, trembling void cried in terrible voices only the mind could hear. The bridge bannister — copper, polished by centuries of von Valancius hands — nay, millennia — felt warm and soft in my grasp as I forced myself to stare at the dying world. Perhaps I had been wrong. Little by little, as a strangling fear drowned my heart, the planet faded. Like a mirage it shimmered; focusing my gaze on the purple Immaterium tides became harder. The planet was there — and yet it wasn't, like those ghosts voidsmen say sometimes follow a vessel through Warp. And then it was gone, swallowed whole by the mouth of hell. Only its memory remained. Only the hope of having made the least evil choice remained, and with it the gnawing wolf of doubt, its brother. I instructed the High Factotum to make tomorrow a day of mourning for those souls that were lost.

Heinrix van Calox stood not far away. I nodded to him and, hands clasped behind my back, walked to my command chair beneath the golden Aquila. He soon left the bridge.

It didn't take long for Argenta to report to me. Exhaustion had carved deep lines upon her face, and her flame of faith was dimmed by sadness. She saluted, ever the paragon of protocol; behind her, bridge officers pointed at her discreetly, and a few clapped for her. Tears came to her eyes. I congratulated her, yet I think she didn't hear the half of it. She should have been proud. I decreed she needed rest more than anything, ordering her away, and nearly missed her answer.

'May I ask for a favour,' she said in a low voice, near toneless.

'Please, Argenta, do,' did I reply, thinking it would have been some material thing or other.

'If you would grant me the honour, Lord-captain — I would pray with you before your Warrant of Trade, in the chapel your forebears raised to the Emperor's glory, and repent of my sins.'

I should have expected something like this! Of course I agreed, but not without protesting that Argenta couldn't have that many sins to begin with. It made her smile. Well, leave it to a Sister of Battle to prefer church to duvet covers; we left immediately.

As we stood before the Warrant Chamber, I remembered the first time I had been there. Only hours after boarding the Emperor's Mercy as one of Theodora's potential heirs, when the Geller fields had failed, the traitorous Master of Whispers and his cronies had dragged me to the Chamber. They wanted — needed — to use my blood to open it and seize the Warrant, in order to legitimate his claim. At gunpoint, I had put my hand in a gargoyle's mouth — and a voice had asked if I was in need of assistance. Which, obviously, I was. Lightning had blinded the room, and most had fallen, struck down by a technological miracle of some kind. Kunrad Voigtvir, the traitor, disappeared. The gargoyle then released me, and I had been able to step inside the chapel.

Today, the gargoyle bit my hand much more gently; I didn't fear to have it severed. The spirit that inhabited it must have been unworried by Argenta's appearance (unless the stress markers in my blood were lower than before), and it opened the doors right away.

The chapel was small. Its walls were panels of gold, carved in minute patterns of the Aquila, of skulls, of all the symbols of the Imperium brought together to enshrine the relic, priceless and most holy, that was the Warrant. Its length of parchment — real parchment, taken from the skin of a still-born ewe on Terra — was framed behind the altar where the lord-captain had the exclusive privilege of leading service for their retinue. Its black ink hadn't faded in ten thousand years. Incense, refilled daily by the deacon's priests, smouldered quietly in a perfume of sanctity. Candles — tall tapers of white wax — shone as dozens of golden stars. We knelt on prie-dieu holstered in von Valancius blue. Argenta clasped her hands, closed her eyes; despite the brightness of the oratory, her pure profile was only half-lit. Silence was velvet-soft, and I spoke in the chanting way of priests.

I will praise thee, Emperor, with my whole heart

I will show forth Thy marvellous works

I will be glad and rejoice in Thee

I will sing praise to Thy name, O thou Most High.

When my enemies are turned back,

They shall fall and perish at Thy presence,

For Thou hast maintained my right and my cause;

Thou seat in the Throne judging right.

Thou hast rebuked the heathen, Thou hast destroyed the wicked,

Thou hast put out their name for ever and ever.

O, enemy, your destructions are come to a perpetual end

And thy memory is perished for all time!

The Emperor shall endure for ever:

He hath prepared His Throne for judgment

And He shall judge the world in righteousness,

He shall minister judgment to the people in uprightness.

Arise, O Emperor; let no man prevail:

Let the heathen be judged in Thy sight.

Put them in fear, O Emperor

That they may know themselves to be mortal.

For how long had humanity sang those words? They felt ancient. They were near as old as us — as our species. Argenta's knuckles were trembling; her breath laboured, but the psalm familiarity appeared to bring her solace. After a time, I asked her if something was wrong, if she needed to talk to me. Argenta grew calmer; she raised her liquid eyes to the Warrant and took strength from its sight.

'It's nothing,' she said. 'Fatigue made me second guess myself, and I worried I failed in my mission because of the imperfections of my soul. I see now this was not the case, and I thank you for bringing me here, in the light of His will. The Emperor guides us all; nothing escapes His sight, and we need not comprehend His designs in order to fulfil them. I shall hunt heresy wherever I see it; I shall preserve the faithful wherever they are.'

'A noble project. You've been under a tremendous amount of strain lately, as us all; please, don't be too hard on yourself. Theodora's loss must have been particularly hard for you — I recall she was to bring you on a pilgrimage?'

Argenta's hand went to the rosary at her belt before she answered. The grains passed swiftly between her fingers, in a gesture she must have done a million times. Be it the Adeptus Mechanicus or the many Orders Militant, I sometimes envied the simple certainties a strong faith brought the religious. How lucky they were to be able to blindly entrust their fate to the God-Emperor's higher power! To know that those above them in the chain of command were right by divine will! And yet, to be blind to the rich nuances of humanity, to the never-ending nuances of character, and to never see the tapestry of differing opinions everywhere must be sad.

We talked for a while, informally. Argenta told me again how she had come aboard the Emperor's Mercy. She was to watch over a reliquary of saint Drusus in Footfall — years ago, and the vessel that brought her there lost its way in the Warp. While mere weeks passed for the passengers, years went by in the waking world and, by the time the Sister reached the station other guardians had been assigned. Lost and adrift, Argenta told me how she felt called to a world that was said to hold an incredible relic of the saint whose name she bore. Saint Argenta had gone down in the Koronus expanse; lady Theodora heard the Sister's plight and, tempted by the thirst of discovery, offered her passage in search for this lost world of ice and snow. This I already knew. But now Argenta told me the rest: an ambush by minions of the Archenemy while she was alone on the holy planet, readying herself in piety. She fell unconscious and was rescued, in the nick of time, by Theodora's people; she told me her bitterness at waking while the ship was already under Warp, fleeing from too numerous enemies. She told me how grateful she had been to Theodora — how without the Rogue Trader's might and daring she would never have found her saint's planet, and how Theodora had nursed her hope of going back, and to cleanse the place of heresy. Now, a new energy brought back life to her face: here was again the Argenta I had begun to know — until the remembrance of Theodora's murder brought back her weariness. I took Argenta in my arms and held her for a long time.

'You didn't fail your saint by succeeding only in part in repeating her miracle. You didn't fail Theodora when she died. Many are alive now that, without you, would have perished. I am alive now because you fought alongside me. I trust you, as Theodora did, and I swear that, if it is in my power, we shall find saint Argenta's planet again.'

My words sounded hollow, despite all my experience in rousing speeches, but I continued.

'What you are now, Argenta, is exhausted. Even saints need to rest. Go to sleep, my friend, and awake in the morning with the Emperor's light once again. All will be better then.'

Argenta freed herself from my hold, combing back her hair with the palms of her hands. She did look better, although her lips were still pinched.

On our way back to the bridge, all those we met saluted us — her more than me, I think. She may have believed that she had failed, but to save thousands of lives from the eternal fires of Chaos is a high feat to be celebrated.

The Emperor's Mercy, thanks to Governor Medineh's gift of workers, sailed a little faster through the void. Not as much as such a frigate could do; the great engines were still maimed, their Machine Spirits deaf to some of our requests. Sacred oils were used by the hectolitre to ease their mood and enginseers reported that, until a full recovery ritual was accomplished in dry dock, they could do little better. So be it, then! As one couldn't fault a wounded man for failing to run, the ship couldn't be blamed either.

We had gotten Vox contact with the Navis Nobilite station, but it was unreliable, and they didn't reply any further to our hails. Vox Master Vigdis supposed the cause was the festering wound in space-time that stood where Rykad Minoris had once been. Augurs reported the station had sustained recently heavy damage, probably due to the great gravitational changes the system had undergone. In any case, we would be docking blind. We still had about two days' travel before reaching them, and therefore time to kill; I busied myself by studying everything I could lay my hands on that concerned the von Valancius protectorate. Rogue Traders range from upstart penniless adventurers to royalty in all but in name — and I was dangerously close to that last category.

On the evening before we were set to reach our destination, some time after dinner, my Vox receiver buzzed: it was one of my orderlies, informing me that Master van Calox would have liked to visit, if it were possible for me? There was something in the girl's strangled tone that made me think the man himself was standing just before her as she called. Inquisitors and their ilk often have that effect on people.

He had bothered to ask, while he could probably have just pushed his way through to my study. There was also something mind-numbingly boring about yearly tonnage of wheat exported from an agri-world I hadn't yet set foot on. Two excellent reasons to yield to my curiosity.

I ordered him in and, seconds later, Heinrix van Calox stepped again in my office. He hadn't bothered with the grand uniform this time, which fitted the later hour and, I hoped, the less formal tone of our interview. Before my orderly left, I called to her.

'Peri, would you please bring amasec and cheese for two? Unless you were to prefer something sweeter, Master van Calox.'

With a wave of the hand, he professed my offer to be perfectly satisfying. Peri was quickly back with the required provisions, taken from my personal stash, and left quiet as a shadow. We sat; I moved stacks of paper and notepads away.

'There we are. To what do I owe the honour?'

'Renewal our acquaintance, Lord-captain. I believe we got off the wrong foot, so to speak. As it may be some while before we reach Footfall, I wished to know you better and perhaps discuss the recent events in a less tense setting.'

I poured two glasses of amasec. The tawny wine sparkled in Theodora's crystal cups, catching erring photons in soft reflections.

'Cheers,' I said, raising my glass. 'To new beginnings. I shall forgive your attitude on the bridge if you tell me how you came to be the Lord Inquisitor's acolyte, primed to replace him should he depart our mortal world, Emperor forbid, and not understand how the chain of command works.'

I smiled to him, to his waste of good looks, showing my teeth, and waited for him to toast me back. How much did he really wish to spend the evening chatting with me and, presumably, low-key interrogate me?

Without a single delay, van Calox raised his glass. 'To new beginnings. Let us say that I now have a better grasp on a ship's hierarchy. We, of your retinue, advise; you decide. I had underestimated how much alike a Rogue Trader's government and the Ordos Majoris are.''

So he really wanted it. We drank. I cut a few portions of the cheeses displayed on the wooden board. Peri had provided fresh bread, too, and I broke a loaf.

'Yet, as you are such a high ranking officer of the Ordo Xenos, I cannot be the first Rogue Trader you have dealt with.' My statement fell flat; I knew he was merely an interrogator — an Inquisitor's pupil, with only the hope of being promoted one day. His face was impassible as he had to realise I wasn't going to make things easy for him. He gave a small laugh, and choose a slice of pressed cheese.

'You are the first one I am in such proximity with. House Chorda is the one I most frequented in the past, as they are very vigilant to heresy in their protectorate, and yet I have barely exchanged ten words with Her Ladyship herself in my life.'

Ah, House Chorda. The third — and last — Rogue Trader dynasty of the Koronus Expanse. I let slide the unstated comment about the Winterscales' lack of zeal: Rykad Minoris had been one of their worlds, after all. As for the von Valancius, I protested mildly.

'I intended no slight,' clarified von Calox. 'The Lord Inquisitor himself had close ties to lady Theodora; there could be no doubt as to her probity.'

'And what about mine?' I asked cheekily. My pulse was starting to run with excitement: this was just another battlefield, and the Emperor gave me the ability to spar with words as well as ranged weapons.

'I wouldn't dare doubt a Commissar's integrity.'

'Former,' I retorted. 'Degraded.' There was no way he didn't know the broad lines by now. I was dancing on a sword's edge.

'Ah, yes,' he said. In the dim lamp light, his dark hair — a bit too long, but hairdressers are hard to come by on worlds falling to Chaos — framed his face but did nothing to temper his stern expression. 'I find it hard to believe you, Katov von Valancius, ever were guilty of cowardice.'

'A tribunal begs to disagree. Who are you to contradict the Emperor's most enlightened justice?'

'A tribunal in closed session, sworn to secrecy… You are right. Please forgive my indiscretion; I shouldn't insist. A coward you are, then.'

I poured us some more wine and toasted to cowards.

Conversation drifted — but van Calox gave me nothing. He circled around me like someone examining an expensive trinket before deciding to buy it, or proclaim it a fake. He deflected every attempt at guessing what his mission in Footfall could be, and why he needed a Rogue Trader's ship to get there. After over two hours of this, we got dangerously low on cheese — not wine, as we were both unwilling to get drunk, although the amasec was excellent and we both highly praised it, spending a good thirty minutes discoursing the subtle art of viticulture, grape varieties and vintages. I leant on my elbows, made a show to down the last of my glass, and stared at van Calox.

'Pray, tell me your conclusions,' I said at last, 'as you have interrogated me for the last one hundred and twenty minutes. What is your opinion of me?'

Ha, he hadn't expected that! He crossed his legs, leant a bit on the side, slightly mirroring my pose.

'You are a learned woman, considering your background.'

'This could be an insult, you know.'

'A very careful one, too, although you hide behind a facade of forwardness.'

'Damn, I am discovered.' I sighed dramatically.

He munched pensively on some bread before delivering his verdict: 'All in all, conversing with you is a disconcerting experience.'

'It is no less disconcerting for me, Master van Calox. Say, after beating around the bush for so long, why don't we play a game? You tell me something I want to know… and I tell you something you want to know.'

He poured us wine. The bottle had still nearly two glasses left; a very sedate pace indeed. Its empty body I discarded in the waste basket by my desk. We toasted again. Let the fun begin. The man may have been an asshole, but it was exhilarating.

'Ladies take precedence,' he said. Now, he watched me like a predator, steely gaze fixed on me. I pursed my lips, pretending to think.

'What is your favourite colour?'

'I beg your pardon?' He was unnerved, flustered, taken aback.

'Your favourite colour, Master van Calox. Most people have one.'

'Red,' he retorted, once again cool and collected. 'What single fact brought you to trial?'

'I shot a Lord Inquisitor in the head.'

There, let him make what he would of that: confession, boast, threat.

'I shall assume he had deserved it?' he inquired. But I just asked him his favourite food.

'After tonight? Amasec and cheese,' he snapped. 'What had he done? Or she?'

'He, and he was giving idiotic orders. As you know, dispatching incompetent officers is within the scope of a Commissar's powers. Now, what is your favourite hobby?'

'Regicide. I've played since I was a child. What kind of orders?'

'The kind that would have sent my whole regiment to death, and nothing to show for it. Have you ever had a pet?'

'Unfortunately no. What was his name?'

'Lord Inquisitor Phreon de Tharaal of the Ordo Hereticus. What are your romantic partners of choice?'

'Women,' he said immediately. 'Yours?'

'The Ordo Hereticus wanted me to hang for insubordination. The Officio Prefectus wanted me promoted to Commissar-captain. They found a middle ground.'

'Yours?'

Oh, I was treading dangerous ground. Perhaps it was that last cup of amasec, gone to my head in a flash, but I once again imagined van Calox humbled and begging… only with much less clothing. I reflexively bit my cheek in an effort to remain indifferent. Or how he was right now, or how he had been on the bridge: the mask slipping, passion visible. A passion for uncovering secrets that had led him to boil the blood of several heretics in their veins. Slowly. How could one do that, how could one sleep at night after having done that?

I replied: 'Men who don't give in to their worst tendencies.' A pause, and I added: 'What would be the one thing you wished you had?'

Van Calox downed his glass, carefully lowering the cup on my desk, without a noise. He said: 'A Rogue Trader's freedom to choose mercy. You should play regicide, Lady Katov, and I should go. Please, forgive me if I unnerved you in any way; it is hard to depart from my Interrogator's manners.'

'You misunderstand me,' I replied, rising. 'I am not unnerved by your status, but by you personally. Good night, Master van Calox.' I guessed it was a draw — but now he knew what I did to inquisitors who pissed me off.